


When did it come to this?

by eternalshiva



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition: Cullen x Cassandra [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When had it come to this? Cassandra wondered – when had she decided that he was worthy of her, worthy of her dedication… Worthy of her attention? </p><p>She’s unsure, the questions unrelenting. She brushes her lips against his, her heart beats hard in her chest and she’s wondering… wondering… when had he captured her so thoroughly and allowed him under her defenses? </p><p>(Hello, my name is eternalshiva and I am in shipping hell. I didn't mean for this to become a serious ship but here it is and I'm not ashamed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When did it come to this?

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a bit hard to read, it's Cassandra's POV - (in brackets, they are passages where it's a memory, direct speech). It's also not beta'd and I wish I was sorry about it.

When had it come to this? Cassandra wondered – when had she decided that he was worthy of _her_ , worthy of her _dedication_ … Worthy of her _attention_?

She’s unsure, the questions unrelenting. She brushed her lips against his, her heart beat hard in her chest and she’s wondering… _wondering_ … when had he captured her so thoroughly and allowed him under her defenses?

Did it start when she found him in Kirkwall, when he questioned his faith, when he questioned the Templar’s direction, when he questioned his own actions? Was it when he discarded his pride and acknowledged he was flawed, that shadows were just shadows but a past could not be dismissed? Was it when he asked for forgiveness and refused to forget his guilt?

Was this why she asked him to become the Commander of _their_ Inquisition?

No, she wasn’t interested then. Was it when he approached her, late one night before they left the city and he confessed that he wished to release himself from the hold of Lyrium, to be released from the hold that the Chantry held on his convictions – his words still rung true in her ears.

> _'I do not wish to see the streets coated in the blood of innocents again.’ His fist is tight, he staring at her with such conviction, she’s almost inspired.  
>  _

She remembered his shaking hands, the eagerness in his voice to embark on a path that no Templar dared to travel in the present time – mages, Templars, working together – he wanted to _change_. She could almost feel the sound of his relief when she promised him she would ensure he remained true to his convictions while leading the troops of the Inquisition.

It wasn’t then, she was sure. She admired him, if anything.

When? _When was it_?

The question remained unanswered, distracted by his hands when Cullen cupped her face gently between his thumb and index. She breathed him in – he smells of sword oil and camp fire smoke – she bit her lower lip while watching him. Heavy lidded with unbridled lust, her fingers dug into his shoulders as she pushed off his under shirt. He’s whispering her name and it sent a shiver down her spine when he traced the length of her back, she closed her eyes when he grasped the muscles of her bottom with his fingers and marked her with them. She stifled the noise he earned out of her, denying him the satisfaction.

Her thoughts are still swirling in the back of her mind. _When?_

Was it when he approached her while the smoke still lingering in the air, while the sound of the blast still echoed off the mountains?  _(_

> _She knew the snow of Haven wasn’t thick enough to hide her tears so she kept them in and stared at the green pulse in the sky and let her anger simmer just below the surface.  
>  _

Was it when he was whispering his condolences, when he murmured they would find them, that they would destroy those responsible for what they’d done to the Divine. For what they’d done to _her_. He was _dead_. Her lover was at the conclave and Cullen’s soft words, Cullen’s hand on her shoulder and the gentle squeeze of support was all she could focus on as she swallowed the ominous rage down into her gut and harnessed it as her own.

She remembered that night, they drank a glass of wine and she told Cullen all about him, the mage she loved, the mage she cherished, the mage who shared her love of adventure and truly understood her. She spoke about the mage that slayed dragons with her, kissed her under the moonlight and loved her so deeply she could hardly _breathe_.

> _‘What am I to do now? He is dead and here I am, alive but not at the same time, what should I do?’ she begged the question and he put his hand on hers, squeezed them and sighed._
> 
> _‘You live, Seeker, and take that anger by the horns. You claim it and wield it like a sword.’ She swallowed his advice but the hurt is still aching in her chest, still eating away at her. He didn’t even blink when she felt the first pin prick of grief take her. He only poured another glass and smiled at her, the gentle look in his eyes did not make her feel ashamed of her softness and she accepted her flaw a little more._

She was thinking all these things, _wondering_ , while his tongue felt like velvet against her neck, teeth nipping the skin as he slipped his hands under her shirt, eager to touch her and she complied, molding herself into the palm of his hands – she’s nothing but hard edges and steel but his touch warmed her and his kisses tempered her will into a smoldering heat. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, he moaned when she rolled her hips against him and dragged him down onto the bed with her.

When had she _healed_ from her grief?

She recalled all the nights they spent pouring their attentions onto the maps, directing their forces to support the inquisitor – she recalled the endless hours of drinking wine and discussing the Maker, Andraste’s rise and downfall against her husband’s shortsightedness, she recalled her eagerness to greet him on those nights and their theological debates would drag on well into the early mornings.

His words were like honey and she craved their intelligence, craved his philosophy – little did she know, he craved the same from her. She remembered his vulnerabilities when the past would strike him and he would shake – when his eyes were lost to nightmares, when his pride was lost to shame while the memories of demons haunted him. She was humbled when he would doubt himself and find her, seek her council and she would reach out to steady him. He would find strength in her words and her comfort. He would thank her with the simplest things and she would smile. She would _laugh_.

The stubble on his chin brought her back to the present, she’s arching her back while the goosebumps race across her skin and her nipples peak under the sensation. He’s unbuttoning her shirt, chasing her breath with kisses down her collarbone and chest.

His hands are divine and she tells him so.

He chuckled, she can see him blush and he stuttered his thanks – his mouth is hot against her breasts and his fingers continue their wayward exploration of her scars, of her muscles. He’s whispering against her skin and she lets him slip his hand between her legs and cup her sex. His touch is steady, slipping between her vaginal lips and she is lost to the sensation of his touch.

She moaned, and he only gives her more as a reward.

 _When had it come to this?_ Where he was on _top_ of her and she was _under_ him, flustered and filled with need. When had she _allowed_ him to say her name with such passion?

Was it on the battlefield where he saw her as his equal, with the sword and shield? Where she praised his skill and he did the same to her.

When had she admitted she liked him? She couldn’t remember the conversation.

> _She’s lying to herself, the sun had been too bright and he was standing in front of her, sword shimmering with Templar power. He was covered in sweat in the practice yard, smiling at her. There was an ache in her arm from the repeated assault of his attacks and her blocking, she was breathless and in a moment of weakness, her lips moved before she could think it through. He had blushed and chuckled, ‘I like you too, Cassandra.’_

She kissed him, in her memories and in the present – she could taste his warmth. He used his knee to push her legs a little bit further apart – she bit his lip, earning a hiss and he kissed her harder, teeth clipping each other before he pressed his weight down on her body, pressing her against the mattress and she moaned his name.

Cullen let his hands travel down her sides while she gently held his face with her own hands, she was breathing him in again, embracing his touch – she liked him with a depth so profane she couldn’t entirely understand it. He was wiggling his buttocks, taking off his trousers and she felt the tip of his erection just at her entrance. She scratched down his back, making him arch backwards and she dug her heels into his lower back and _pushed_.

He was inside of her.

Her fingers slid down his back, she could feel his muscles rolling under her touch, and he was squeezing her hips, holding her down. She wanted… she _wanted more_. He kissed her shoulder, suckling the skin, his lips moved wordlessly across her jaw and he licked her scar, he kissed the memory and she wrapped her arms round his neck and felt him move expertly between her legs.

He moaned her name and she shivered, his lust and need driving his thrusts – she felt the spark of excitement ignite and she bit her lip.

When had it come to this? She wasn’t sure, she didn’t _care_.

She came, like a prayer on her lips, his name still wedged between her teeth – she couldn’t bring herself to say it but he didn’t hold anything back. He moaned, grunted and pounded into her as she fell apart at the seams. He gave in to his pleasure and she took it readily and greedily.


End file.
